falling gods
by januarylightsphere
Summary: but sweetheart, don't you remember, the gods don't fall, they are all falling - rome/china, one wants to fall, one doesn't.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hetalia. How fortunate, right?

Rare pair exchange aka secret santa for sssshizu on tumblr - it's historical, and it isn't.

For the sake of the story, just pretend that the nations don't have human names.

 **Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.**

* * *

 **Falling Gods**

 **\- they're nations, but basically they have become gods, and gods are bound to fall.**

* * *

 _Some legends are told_  
 _Some turn to dust or to gold_  
 _But you will remember me_  
 _Remember me for centuries_  
 _And just one mistake_  
 _Is all it will take_  
 _We'll go down in history_  
 _Remember me for centuries_

 _\- Century, Fall Out Boys._

* * *

The thing about Icarus is that he believed he could really fly. He jumped off of the ledge and he trusted, with every wax feather and every beat of his glass heart that he could have soared through the clouds, escape from everything, towards a better future. There were countless possibilities that could have marked the ending of Icarus's tale, but he was sure, he was so sure that it would be the positive - his wing wouldn't fail him and he would escape. There were countless possibilities and in the end, Icarus went down in history for being the boy who flew too close to the sun.

(He flew too close to the sun, Rome often thinks, and despite what Greece tells him, he thinks that the wax didn't melt. It must have burnt, Icarus must have burnt. It wasn't graceful and it wasn't quiet, it was all flailing limbs and breaking heart and screams, he crashed and fell and burnt, and the same thing will happen to them.

Nations don't last forever, for every kingdom falls.)

Sometimes, when he watches China outline the laws and hears China talk about his brothers and sisters, he wonders whether China will be eternally known as someone with the glass wings who doesn't realize they will crack and smash and break at any given moment. That man certainly reminds him of Icarus (and ironically, Rome sometimes think of himself as Icarus, too), truly thinks that he might be able to fly forever, fly through the future of young empires and nations that will follow, fly through the pages of history until his name and his wings are engraved across the minds of all nations and human. Does he even realize that his wings are just like Icarus's? One mistake about how high he jumps or when he chooses to do so, they will shatter and he will become another one who miscalculated his own strength and falls down, his name and his legacy will be in history.

And there are millions of others out there, who just like Icarus, like Rome, like China, are either going to fall or fly and there are a thousand different endings to each of their stories, and -

Who is Rome to say that China will not be the lucky one that manages to take off?

(And who is Rome to say that China will not be the lucky one to catch the right breeze and fly through many and many centuries later?)

Because some parts of him tells him that China will manage to fly either way, with his clear amber eyes that sometimes flash golden in Rome's heart, it's China, and it's the man that looks like his wings will never fail him, it's China, the man Rome can see a thousand futures with, a thousand futures that are waiting to be unlocked and discovered.

When they sit in the palace that stretches to the horizon, and talk about politics and laws and trade (and plans and hope), Rome can't help but fixing his eyes on China - China sits on his chair like it's a throne, his fingers curl around an old book and his clear amber eyes looking around the room and Rome gets the strangest version, just a moment, of a boy (human, he can tell), sitting in the chair the very same way, a boy with amber eyes and black hair and blurry face, whose name is always on the tip of Rome's tongue, a boy that Rome can't see but is as familiar to him as China is. But Rome only shakes his head and tries to focus on what China's saying, before his thoughts are all about how soft China's voice is or the way his hair turn slightly brown in the afternoon sunlight, and the way his wings, big and beautiful and brillian, stretch behind him, without a single crack.

Sometimes, Rome swears that China's staring at him too, as though he's trying to work out who he reminds him of, his mouth trying to form a name that never comes out.

Sometimes, when China looks at him like that, Rome swears he can see the intrigue in China's eyes, it looks as if maybe he wanted Rome in the way Rome wanted him, but Rome pushed that thought out of his mind almost immediately. Because he is just a brave warrior in the name of an empire, and China is much more than what Rome can ever be.

(In some his dreams of thousand possibilities, Rome sees himself with a boy - clear amber eyes, black hair, a boy that is China and isn't China at the same time - soaring into the distance, with strong winds and strong hearts, and it marks the happy ending of a tale.)

And when Rome tells him the story of Icarus, China smiles.

"Icarus is genius." China says. "Genius, but too young, too reckless."

* * *

China is beautiful, with amber eyes that cold enough to burn and heart of glass, but Rome has always been able to see, behind those eyes and soft features, there is something else there, something a little like fire and ambition and will that can take the world by storm.

That night, however, all Rome can see is the moon shining in the sky above, reflected in those amber orbs that hide so much more anyone can ever think of. They are sitting together on the highest point of China's palace, an tower whose name Rome can't quite recall at the moment, not when all he can think of are China and the heaven above them, the heaven that is staring back at them now.

"The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it?" Rome asks.

"It's even more beautiful from here." China says, taking another step closer to the edge.

Rome follows China to where he's standing, so close to falling. "I suppose it is." He takes a step back, but China doesn't. "Come on, China, if you aren't careful, you'll fall." He teases, but China remains so still that Rome feels his stomach churning. "I'm not joking. Let's go back -"

"Have you ever considered -" China starts, "-that maybe I want to fall."

Rome stands in silence, he has seen so many sides of China - ambitious, clever, witty, brave, carer, brother, lover, but never before has he stood like this, has his posture screamed a broken man and his voice been this cracked. He's never seen this side of China, but he knows it, another boy (China as a human boy), achingly familiar to him, the same stance of a broken man.

"Humans are so scared of falling, nations are so scared of falling, because it's what will happen to them eventually. It's the fate that is written for us, that we shouldn't stand too close to the edge or climb too high, just in case we lose our footing, but we aren't told or learnt what else may happen - for all we know we could have wings and we could all be lifted up by the wind. Have you ever considered that, Rome?"

Rome stands, stunned, looking at China's back and he almost sees a pair of glass wings that will carry China anywhere, anywhere to get away from here, from him.

There are cracks on those wings, and Rome has to shut his eyes for a moment.

"Sometimes, I want to jump. To see if my wings can actually carry me away, or if I will die as human. I want to escape from my fate, I want to choose my future, but well, I don't have a choice."

Only now does he step away from the edge, turning his head and eyes staring into Rome's. And, finally, Rome sees in those clear amber eyes something that has not been here for a very long time - hot and anger and fire. It's so unlike China - because Rome's supposed to be the heated one, and China's the calm and collected one -

(then he remembers China is a soldier too,and every punch thrown, every arrow shot, every drop of blood split, every wound gained, every enemy dead at his feet is the addition to the will of fire in his bones and blood.)

"China, you're angry and upset -"

"Of course I'm angry! I know you see it too, I know you know what we are going to be, I know you know who we are supposed to be, I know you get it! Our future is laid out, and I don't want it to be like that! I want to decide my own future and get away from here! I want to get away from that destiny of fighting against my brothers and sisters and you get it, right? You get it because you killed your best friend to -"

Rome supposes he should be angry, but China's eyes are blazing with red fire and hurt and Rome starts to wonder if anger is a sincere emotion, if China is really furious, but when he looks a little closer, he can see through that, anger is an art of hiding something that China has always been good at hiding, anger is a beat of China's glass heart, trying to beat away its pain.

Of course Rome understands this.

"China." Rome says, just when China takes a deep breath to control himself, and Rome's mouth forms the name that never comes out. "Y-Ya…"

"You see it, too, don't you? You and I are destined to fight, to be apart."

"But there are thousand possibilities, and China, we are always so far away from each other. There are thousand endings for our story, war is just one of them."

China doesn't smile. And Rome feels his glass heart shattering.

(And he wonders whether there are two more soul mates with glass wings and glass hearts that are praying they will last the night.)

* * *

If you think about it, despite many possibilities, glass is fragile.

Glass wings are meant to fall and glass hearts are meant to be broken.

And the things about them is that, once they crack, there's no chance of them ever fully repairing again.

And Rome knows that China will never be the magnificent man and a whole again after that night on the unnamed tower.

They are still Rome and China and their glass hearts are still trying to beat, but they are falling and soon, very soon, the glass will shatter and they will become like Icarus, flying too close to the sun and getting burnt in the ugliest way. They are still Rome and China and what will happen to them is written by mother of fate, but there are still thousand possibilities open.

But this time, they are both a little foolish and their glass hearts a little too damaged to be repaired, so the inevitable happens.

Just like Icarus, they fall.

The matter is that Rome is the first to fall and never get back when China falls later but never gives up.

And, now, they are standing in China's palace, the same room that they always sit together, China's reading the same book and Rome's sitting on the same chair, their names in history already, their past behind them, their future laid out in front of them and their glass wings are falling.

"So we didn't have to fight after all." At least, war isn't how their story ends.

China looks at Rome, his eyes clear and empty. "Hm, I told you, didn't I? It's where you, I, we are going to end up. Broken. Falling. Alone. We can't fly. Nations are destined to fall, sooner or later."

"But you will last longer than most of us, won't you?" Rome says, and he really really hopes that China will last, China will fly forever. China nods, and Rome smiles. He thinks of two other boys, who walked away from each other, their glass wings falling, but found the way back to each other eventually, in other life, in other universe. It's ironic, isn't it, for one to know who he is when his life is ending. "Yao."

"Romulus," China murmurs. "Yao and Romulus, the human that found their happy ending. You and I, I suppose, in a different life."

"That could be us, you know, if I could stay."

He thinks he sees anger in China's eyes when he starts fading away – but anger, after all, is just a timid motion of a glass heart that is trying to beat away its pain.

(There are two boys, foolish and naive and genius, with bright smiles and glass wings - Rome wonders if they will walk the same path as he did.

But perhaps their glass wings are strong enough to keep them from falling.)


End file.
